


Goodnight until the morrow

by lasersheith



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, M/M, PWP, Porn with Feelings, canon compliant since voltron ended after season 7 weird right, they cry when they do the do sometimes it's just a fact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 11:33:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17425094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasersheith/pseuds/lasersheith
Summary: Shiro's life as Captain of the Atlas is a good life, though it keeps him far from his husband's arms far more than he'd like.As soon as the bridge disappeared behind him, all pretense of self control vanished. He sprinted down the hall, alarming a few tired ensigns on patrol as he careened past them back to his quarters.The door swished shut behind him and he forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. Last time Keith had unexpectedly returned from a long mission early, Shiro had rended his bootlaces down to useless cotton fibers in his haste and still remembered the quartermaster’s knowing look when he’d had to ask for replacements the next morning. Cheeks pink at the embarrassing memory, he carefully untied and loosened his boots, pulling them off and setting them in their usual spot next to the door.





	Goodnight until the morrow

Shiro loved his job, he truly did. Commanding the Atlas after the war, bringing galaxies together, laying the foundations of what would inevitably be a very long process of rebuilding brought him a deep sense of satisfaction. He couldn't imagine doing anything else. 

It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows and smiling faces and inspiring speeches; it was hard work at times. More often than not it felt just as hard as fighting for his life alongside the other paladins, though more mentally than physically.  Hunk did what he could to keep everyone's spirits high, especially Shiro's, but there were limitations to what even his comforting presence could do. As it was, his time was often taken up with his responsibilities as the head engineer and he couldn't spare it all to be Shiro's personal morale booster, as much as he would have liked to. 

The days were long and the nights so often lonely. It was hard going to sleep, staring at his datapad and willing it to buzz with the incoming call he so desperately longed for, only the gleaming ring on his fourth finger to keep him company. 

It was just such a sleepless night when Shiro was roused from his bed by a sharp tap at the door. He called out to the knocker to hold a moment and pulled his jacket over his shoulders. Not wanting to spare the time to unclasp his prosthetic cover and tuck the tattered ends into it, he let the fabric hang over the empty sleeve, walking towards the door as he buttoned. 

He pressed the controls next to the door to slide it open, nodding sharply at the officer on the other side. “What is it, Lieutenant?” 

The woman saluted crisply. “An urgent call on the bridge, sir. It’s a Raptor class Galra ship, asking for you personally. Call sign TK605.” 

Shiro grinned and returned her salute, allowing her to drop her arm and resume her position of attention. “Send instructions to allow the ship to dock. I’ll be on the bridge in 5 minutes.” 

“Sir,” she replied, turning on a heel and walking swiftly back towards the bridge. 

Shiro pressed the tips of his toes into his boots by the door once it had slid shut. His prosthetic hand was already clamoring towards the bathroom for his toothbrush while he tried to lace them one-handed. Teeth half-heartedly brushed and boots technically tied, he sped to the bathroom, rinsing his mouth out before washing his face and combing his hair. He frowned at his still sleep-rumpled reflection; it would have to do. 

Decades of fiercely honed self-control kept him from sprinting towards bridge, but only just. 

As expected, a familiar and extremely welcome face greeted him on the holoscreen when he entered the bridge. Dismissing the myriad salutes as he approached his position, he turned all of his attention to the half-smirking form hovering over the panes of reinforced glass that looked out into space around them. 

“You’re almost three quintants early,” Shiro teased, unable to keep the smile from his lips. 

Keith shrugged, the long braid slung over his shoulder shifting with the movement. “Finished up the job fast and found a shortcut. Allura says hi, by the way.” His eyes twinkled on the screen and Shiro noticed several officers flush and look away from what felt like a private conversation despite taking place in such crowded quarters. 

Shiro cleared his throat, all too aware of the whispers that would follow in his wake. The fact that it was the night relief crew was only a minor balm to the embarrassment. “Well, I trust you’ve been given docking instructions?” His voice took on the commanding, official tone that he retreated to in his least assured moments, though there weren’t many who knew such an intimate detail of their captain’s inner-workings. 

Keith nodded. “Just waiting for the airlock to clear.” 

Shiro faltered for a moment, beating back the desire to run to the hangar and clear it himself. “And your crew has their sleeping quarters assignments?” He asked instead, only letting a fraction of the excitement welling up in his chest to escape with the question. 

“Yup.” The last syllable left Keith’s lips with an obscene popping sound and Shiro was lost for moment tracing the elegant lines of Keith’s mouth.

Realizing his mistake, he straightened, locking eyes with the shimmering, slightly distorted shape of Keith in front of him again. “I expect a full status report in the morning at the daily briefing.” 

“Of course.” Keith’s amused reply came immediately. 

Licking his lips at the crackle of static from the radio in Keith’s ship, hopefully clearing him to land, Shiro nodded. “Well, carry on then. Bridge out.” 

The communications officer closed the channel and the overhead lights blazed in full again, bathing the bridge in artificial sunlight. “As you were, everyone,” Shiro called, turning in a crisp about face and striding confidently from the bridge. 

As soon as the bridge disappeared behind him, all pretense of self control vanished. He sprinted down the hall, alarming a few tired ensigns on patrol as he careened past them back to his quarters. 

The door swished shut behind him and he forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. Last time Keith had unexpectedly returned from a long mission early, Shiro had rended his bootlaces down to useless cotton fibers in his haste and still remembered the quartermaster’s knowing look when he’d had to ask for replacements the next morning. Cheeks pink at the embarrassing memory, he carefully untied and loosened his boots, pulling them off and setting them in their usual spot next to the door. 

He’d only freed a few buttons from the top of his uniform when the door whirred open again and he found himself with an armful of Keith, already pressed tightly against him before the door could shut. Their lips met with a surge of force that almost had their teeth clacking together as Shiro pressed his prosthetic against the small of Keith’s back. 

His left hand gently tugged at the elastic holding Keith’s braid in place, fingers working the silken strands apart with practiced ease as their tongues slid against each other. Keith hummed at the attention, his own hands gliding across Shiro’s chest, making quick work of the remaining buttons. 

“Missed you,” he murmured, shoving the jacket off of Shiro’s shoulders and onto the floor. His mouth pressed sloppy kisses down Shiro’s chin and across his jaw, nipping with increasing urgency at the sensitive skin he found there. 

Shiro groaned at the attention, gripping tightly at the waves of dark hair released from the braid and tugging Keith’s head away before he could leave damning bruises in hard to cover places. “Missed you too,” he replied breathlessly. His grip on Keith’s head abated only slightly and he used it to turn Keith around, giving him access to the zipper holding him in his own tight uniform. 

Normally he’d take his time, pressing his lips to every inch of skin the zipper revealed as it followed the track ending just above Keith’s tailbone. Shiro was far too worked up for that, though, tugging the zipper and then the suit off as quickly as he could manage. A flash of silver trailing down Keith’s back caught his eye and made him smile, slowing his frantic pace.  He reached for the chain, moving around Keith as he stepped out of his clothes, and bringing the ring at the end of it to his lips for a brief kiss before lowering it back to Keith’s chest. Keith smiled and pulled Shiro’s undershirt over his head, leaning in to press their lips together once it was discarded into the pile with the rest. 

They moved their reunion ever so slowly towards Shiro’s bedroom, hands and lips roving over every bit of exposed skin they could reach. Keith shoved Shiro up against the doorjamb and pulled his slacks and shorts down in one fluid motion, both of them growing increasingly more desperate with every second they spent with clothing barring their paths. Nearly tripping, Shiro did his best to kick the pile of cloth puddling at his feet to the side as Keith dragged him through the threshold into the bedroom. 

In a tangle of limbs, pants still clinging to one of Shiro’s legs, they tumbled onto the mattress. Lips and tongues and hands roved over too-long absent flesh as they murmured and moaned nonsense against and to each other. Shiro sent his prosthetic arm careening into the nightstand, nearly knocking it over in his haste to retrieve the bottle tucked into the back of the drawer. He pressed it into Keith’s hand and shivered in anticipation as his husband wasted no time clicking it open. The chill of cold liquid brought another shiver down his spine at the eager intrusion of a slicked finger. 

Keith took his time working Shiro open, distracting him from the gentle stretch and pull with the drag of teeth along his collarbone. The skin there shined in the dim lamplight, wet from Keith’s mouth and a beautiful reddish purple as blood pooled below the surface to form a bruise that would last for days. He left a trail of them across Shiro’s chest, marking him and soothing him with soft presses of his lips until he was squirming and panting Keith’s name in desperation. 

Keith let his fingers gently slide free and retrieved the bottle that had rolled between the pillows at the head of the bed after he’d tossed it aside. He coated himself liberally as Shiro watched, hunger gleaming in his eyes. Settling back at an angle against the headboard and letting his knees spread apart to form a diamond with his feet pressed together, Keith motioned for Shiro to come to him. 

The invitation was a welcomed one and Shiro crawled over, kissing Keith deeply as he settled into his lap, locking his ankles at the small of Keith’s back. Keith reached behind and underneath him, lining himself up so Shiro could lower himself down. They both groaned as Shiro sank until Keith was fully sheathed within him, the backs of their thighs meeting. 

Shiro rested his forehead against Keith’s, adjusting to the pressure and savoring the feeling for a long moment. “Missed you so much,” Keith murmured again, tilting his chin to press their lips together in a chaste kiss. 

Keith’s voice was thick with emotion and Shiro felt the same relief wash over himself. He didn’t answer, hoping the kiss he supplied carried his agreement for the sentiment as he began to move. 

They rocked their hips together in a steady rhythm, the long weeks of absence doing nothing to diminish the synchronicity that felt innate. Sweat beaded across their legs and shoulders, Shiro savored the salty tang of it as he let his tongue trail down Keith’s throat before leaving a mark of his own at the junction of neck and shoulder. 

“Fuck,” Keith hissed, gripping Shiro’s hips tight enough to leave pale imprints where his fingers lay.

Expecting the grip to tighten even further and for Keith to take control of their pace with his normal fervor, Shiro blinked in confusion as they slowed.

“Want it to last,” Keith gasped, reading the look on his face. “Missed you.” 

Shiro felt an unexpected tightness grasp at his throat at the raw emotion in Keith’s voice and the shimmering of unshed tears welling in his eyes. He nodded, adjusting the cant of his hips to Keith’s slower pace. Their lips met again, less urgency and fire but no less passion in the soft slide of their mouths against each other. 

Tears spilled hot down Shiro’s already warm cheeks and Keith reached a hand up to brush them away. He blinked his eyes open, tears beading in his lashes as he clung to Keith’s shoulders, only to find mirroring tracks on Keith’s own face. 

Shiro cupped Keith’s jaw with his left hand, letting his thumb trail along the pointed edge of the too-smooth darkened skin of the scar there. Keith stopped trying to catch the tears as they fell, letting his hand slide around to the nape of Shiro’s neck, digging into the muscle as they panted together. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Keith let out a breathy moan against Shiro’s lips. “Love you,” he murmured, reaching between them to take Shiro in his hand. 

His strokes matched the torturously slow pace his hips set, but Shiro found himself nearing the edge of no return far more quickly than he would have thought possible. “Love you too,” he groaned, relaxing in Keith’s grip and letting himself slump into the crook of Keith’s neck. With a few final stuttered thrusts and a twist of Keith’s wrist, they met their release together, each other’s names whispered into the otherwise quiet stillness of Shiro’s quarters. 

Keith trailed his fingers absently up and down the clammy skin of Shiro’s back, murmuring praise into his hair as Shiro found the strength to climb off of Keith’s lap and collapse down onto the pillows. He followed soon after, curling into Shiro’s side and letting his head rest on Shiro’s chest. 

Before sleep could take them, Shiro let out a satisfied yawn and sent his prosthetic over to turn off the lamp. “It’s good to have you back,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss into Keith’s hair. 

“It’s good to be back,” Keith replied earnestly, half-obscured though it was by the yawn that overwhelmed him. 

**Author's Note:**

> [come be friends with me on twitter!](https://twitter.com/lasersheith)


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